


I Have Your Dreams And Your Teeth Marks

by velificatio



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, M/M, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velificatio/pseuds/velificatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce indulges John and agrees to play out one of his oldest fantasies: Batman coming into his room at night and ravishing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Your Dreams And Your Teeth Marks

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kink meme prompt. Special thanks to solutionforreality for betaing this!

By now Bruce was well accustomed to lurking in the shadows, but never for this purpose. 

He'd entered John's apartment through his bedroom window, which had been distressingly easy to unlock and pry open (they'd really have to have a long talk about better security measures.). At the time John had just stepped into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower head running combined with the barrier of the door between them provided the perfect cover. 

Earlier that night there had been a small Christmas program put on by the orphans at St. Swithin’s, which John had attended for the majority of the evening. Once he got home, he'd been so distracted that he never turned the light on in his room before getting undressed and heading in to bathe. Months of training and patrolling as Nightwing left his eyesight well attuned to darkness, but Bruce knew the right places to avoid detection. 

It was difficult to shake the feeling of being out of place, standing in the far corner of the bedroom fully dressed in the batsuit. 

Certainly it wasn't an act he'd have come up with on his own. Though he believed himself to be reasonably adventurous when it came to intimacy, Bruce could admit that some things were just beyond his realm of thought. 

In the end his curiosity got the better of him. John just didn't seem the type and Bruce wanted, needed to know more. To understand. So he agreed to do it. 

The creak of the bathroom door opening brought him out of his thoughts. John stepped out, towel wrapped snugly around his hips. Bruce watched lingering droplets of water trail down his bare skin before disappearing into the white fabric. 

For a moment he just observed as John moved about the room, placing his clothing in a hamper before bending over to scour through his bedside dresser. Then he struck. 

With well trained swiftness he strode forward until he was directly behind John, bringing one of his hands up to cover his mouth and the other wrapping around his midsection, dragging his back up against Bruce's chest. John gave a futile, startled shout and jerked violently against him but Bruce's hold was firm.

"Don't scream," he said, voice calm yet no less threatening. "If you scream I'll fix it so you can't speak."

It seemed to take a moment for John to register just what was actually happening. The tension in his body ratcheted up further.

Bruce turned them and threw John up against the wall, intent on stunning him. But John recovered faster than he'd anticipated and made a beeline for the bedroom door. He didn't get far. Bruce caught him halfway there, blocked the punch John aimed at his face and used that momentum to spin them around, shoving John until he lost his footing and fell face forward onto his bed. 

John began to turn over but Bruce was already on him, pressing a knee onto his back. John struggled, baring his teeth even as Bruce finally rid him of the towel that had barely managed to stay clung to his slender frame. 

"Get the fuck off me," John snapped. 

He tried to rise, thrashing so hard Bruce briefly thought he might actually succeed in moving him. So he decided to throw him further off balance. Using one hand to shove John's face down into the mattress, he brought the other down to John's ass without preamble and worked a finger in his opening. 

John gave a broken little shout, half muffled by the bed sheets, and Bruce could faintly make out some curses falling from his mouth. He didn't give him time adjust before pressing in another finger. It was different with the gloves of the suit covering his hands, leaving him feeling almost detached from the action even as John clenched involuntarily around him. 

Fucking his fingers in and out, scissoring them methodically, Bruce gradually tamed down some of John's struggling. "That's better. The more you cooperate John, the easier this will go. You might even enjoy it."

Inwardly, Bruce congratulated himself for not faltering over those words. He pulled his fingers out and moved off John, just enough to turn him over and maneuver him onto the middle of the bed. Brandishing the two sets of handcuffs he'd taken from John's dresser while he was in the shower, Bruce snatched up his wrist. Seeing the cuffs apparently renewed John's will to get away and he began to twist and surge forward once more. It took some time but Bruce was able to get eventually get both his wrists bound to the bed's headboard. By that time John's chest was heaving from his efforts. Bruce wrapped a hand around his neck. 

"Spread your legs," Bruce growled, tightening his hand's grip around John's throat. 

John still managed to spit at him, "Fuck you." The fiery defiance Bruce had long been drawn to shone in his eyes. 

Bruce paused before making his next move. Even though they'd discussed this in-depth on multiple occasions and John had assured him it was what he wanted, using brute physical force was something he was completely unaccustomed to in the bedroom. Bruce raised his hand but hesitated and John looked like he half expected him to say "yellow" and slow down to something safer, or "red" and end this game altogether. Tension hung heavy in the air. 

Instead he slapped John twice, hard enough to make the sound ring clearly over the ever-present noise of passing traffic filtering in through his apartment window. John inhaled sharply and for a moment Bruce worried he might have used too much force. Then he felt John rock his hips up against his leg, involuntarily perhaps, and the insistent press of his erection. 

A groan fell from Bruce's lips before he could stifle it and he realized with a start that John might not be the only one who enjoyed this kind of roleplay. Certainly the way his own cock was rapidly beginning to swell was evidence of something. Uncomfortable, Bruce pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He wouldn't dwell on the implications now, if anytime soon, he'd just focus on making this as good for John as he could. 

Returning his hand to John's throat, Bruce leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. "I said spread your legs. Now." His voice, a low rasp, was thick with an undercurrent of violence, the same tone he used to intimidate hardened criminals he wanted information out of. "Don't make me hurt you John." 

John wet his lips and made a soft, submissive sound. Temporary surrender, his body sagging down into the mattress and going pliant. Finally, his legs parted. 

Satisfied, Bruce reached into one the side pockets of his belt. A blindfold was by no means something he regularly carried with him but according to John tabloids once reported he had bomb detonators on his belt so he supposed it wasn't too far outside the realm of possibility.

John made a good attempt at appearing fearful as Bruce began to tie the blindfold over his eyes, but he couldn't entirely hide his anticipation or the way his thighs began to tremble. 

Bruce stood and began to strip off his suit, taking longer than usual due to the trembling in his hands. Preferably, John would have liked him to be dressed the whole time. But it simply wasn't designed to open that casually. And it was better this way, without his suit denying him the slick sensation of sweat and skin on skin.

He returned to the bed, kneeling between John's spread legs. For a moment he almost reached for the dresser, where he knew John kept some lube, before he stopped himself. That wasn't part of the game, and though he'd argued with John over it, he'd eventually relented. Spit would have to suffice, but he wasn't going to use as little as John had suggested. He'd no intention of causing the man any real injury. 

He wet his hand and slicked himself up until he was satisfied with the amount. Watching as John squirmed beneath him, he grew a little bolder.

Leaning forward Bruce bit down hard on John's neck, cock throbbing at the sharp cry he was rewarded with. He used his entire body weight to hold the slighter man down as John thrashed against him, his wrists pulling uselessly at the cuffs binding him to the headboard, sucking on the sensitive skin.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Bruce rasped and John shuddered, whimpering softly.

"Don't, please."

Bruce covered his mouth, silencing his pleas, and felt him pant and gasp as he brought the head of his cock to John's entrance. As he began to push inside he spread his fingers apart enough to allow John to make coherent, albeit slightly muffled, words. His free hand grabbed John's hip to hold him down.

With the minimal preparation he'd done it had to burn, to hurt. The friction alone was making Bruce groan but John didn't utter the safeword so he gradually pushed forward until he was all the way inside. John's hands clenched and the headboard rattled against the wall. 

He gave John only a few moments to adjust and spared himself some because the tightness and heat of his body was near overwhelming. Then he started fucking, with a kind of primal energy than he'd ever dared use before. He dropped his hand from John's mouth completely, returning it to his throat. 

John was biting his bottom lip so hard Bruce could see a small trickle of blood trailing down his chin, desperately muffling any sounds of pleasure. It only spurred Bruce on, drove him to make his thrusts harder, tilting the angle of his hips until he found that spot inside John he couldn't hold back his reaction to. 

“Oh god,” John sobbed, burying his face further into the pillow, “Please, please, fuck...”

Chanting pleas soon dissolved into a series of gasps and low moans, each sounding like they'd been torn from John's throat. But Bruce was barely registering them over his own near-animalistic grunts and groans. On one level it startled him, how rough he was being and how much he was getting off on it. Yet he found he couldn't slow the frantic pumping of his hips, gentle the way his fingers clutched at John's hip with bruising force. He was so close already. 

John's cock was leaking profusely, precome pooling on his lower abdomen. The sight of it nearly pushed Bruce over the edge. More than anything he wanted to rip the blindfold away, to see John's eyes and the hazy, unfocused look in them. He'd always been one who preferred eye contact during sex. But that would likely bring John straight out of the fantasy. Regretfully, he held himself back. 

What he did instead was remove his hand from John's hip and wrap his fingers tightly around his straining erection, giving firm and sure strokes. John keened, his voice taking on a desperate edge. Shaking his head, he began to buck his hips as if trying to throw Bruce off of him. 

"You're going to come for me," Bruce said confidently, squeezing John's neck a bit. 

"No," John moaned out. "I won't, you _can't_ -"

When Bruce rubbed his thumbnail along the vein on the underside of his cock John broke off with a choked moan. Twisting his wrist he smeared the precome that coated his fingers over the flushed head. All the while Bruce still moved inside John, giving short but sharp thrusts of his hips that bumped him against his prostate each time. Little convulsions were beginning to rock through John, his body tightening rhythmically around Bruce. He wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. One last push was all he needed. 

Bruce gave it to him by moving his hand from his throat to his hair, wrenching his head back to bear the long line of his throat. Locking onto the spot he'd so savagely bitten before, he sank his teeth into the pale flesh again. The reaction was immediate; John's entire body snapped forward, the headboard creaking from the effort. He came with a hoarse scream, thick strands shooting up onto Bruce's stomach as he stroked and fucked him through it. 

On a hair-trigger towards his own orgasm, Bruce nearly forgot how this scenario was supposed to play out. Pulling out before he could spill inside John, he moved to straddle his chest. A few swift flicks of his hand was all it took before he was coming hard, dirtying John's lips and chin. Bruce cursed, giving his cock a few extra strokes. 

When he finally stopped John was just laying still on the bed, breath coming out in soft pants. Realizing the discomfort his weight must be causing him Bruce rose off the bed and began the careful process of reapplying his suit. At once the thoughts he'd tried to put out of mind assailed him, the revelation that he'd perhaps gotten just as much out of this fantasy as John had, and the discomfort that came along with it. Each layer of armor began to feel less like a tool for physical protection, and more as a mental barricade. 

Once he was fully dressed Bruce took the handcuff key off the dresser. Checking John's wrists, he knew there would definitely be bruising there by morning but was relieved he hadn't gone so far as to cut into his flesh. He freed John's right hand of the cuffs but left the other bound, placing the key on his chest for him to retrieve once he'd left the room. 

With one last long glance at John, Bruce opened the window and left. He'd need to get the suit back to the cave before returning, it was too risky to wait until morning.

 

****

 

Somehow it was far more nerve-wracking driving back to John's apartment than it had been getting there at the beginning of the night. Bruce deliberately took the longer route, needing those extra minutes to clear his head.

When he finally arrived back outside John's apartment room, the door opened so quickly he wondered how long the other man had been standing there waiting for him to return.

Once inside Bruce didn't let John get a word out before he took his hand and dragged him closer, their chests touching. Slotting their mouths together, he kissed John gently, more soft brushes of lips than any real contact. It was in stark contrast to all his earlier treatment. At first John stiffened a bit, confused, but then sighed against Bruce's mouth and relaxed. Silently he watched as Bruce pressed soft kisses over the bite mark on his neck, almost in apology, took his wrists in his hands and massaged the bruises that were blooming tenderly. 

Bruce felt shaken, conflicted.

Hands, smaller than his own but just as strong, cupped the sides of his face. "Hey," John said, looking concerned. "You okay?"

Bruce closed his eyes. "I'm fine."

"Bruce, we don't have to do this again. I don't want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable for my own benefit."

It would have been tempting to nod and let the conversation end there, but Bruce heard the underlying hint of guilt in John's tone. He knew all too well that internally the man was regretting ever having brought this fantasy up, beating himself up and believing Bruce had been repelled by the act but went along with it to please him. John wasn't a man who trusted easily and it had taken a lot of prodding on Bruce's part before he ever admitted those desires. Even then Bruce vividly remembered how he kept his eyes trained to the floor, the wall, anywhere but Bruce's face, fully anticipating rejection or worse, disgust. 

How could he expect John to be willing to share something like this with him, if he wasn't even prepared to honestly tell him how he felt about it?

John seemed to think the conversation was over because he stepped back and began to turn away. Bruce grabbed his hand again to stop him. He met John's gaze and didn't waiver. 

"I did like it. I liked it a lot," he admitted. "I just, wasn't really expecting to is all."

John smiled. "Not something you thought you'd ever enjoy?" He squeezed Bruce's hand when he nodded. "That's not uncommon, it'll just take some adjusting to is all."

Bruce wrapped an arm around John's waist and leaned in close, whispering into the curve of his ear. "Then I hope you've got more scenarios in that head of yours." And John's smile was near radiant as he led them down the hallway towards the bedroom.


End file.
